I stroll into the kitchen. Bull's making lunch. He's actually no relation to me, though secretly I look on him as my big brother, sometimes even my dad. When I needed a father for parent-teacher nights, Bull was there; if I fell out of a tree he'd run to catch me. He usually dropped me, but at least he tried; he's my full time body guard and chauffer, and, when I was thirteen and feeling depressed after spending too long in front of a mirror, he was the one I asked - 'Do you think I'm pretty?'

'No, mate,' he said, 'I wouldn't call you pretty at all. No way. You're beautiful.'

It's still near the top of one of my all-time favourite lies.

Autor: Bill Condon

I stroll into the kitchen. Bull's making lunch. He's actually no relation to me, though secretly I look on him as my big brother, sometimes even my dad. When I needed a father for parent-teacher nights, Bull was there; if I fell out of a tree he'd run to catch me. He usually dropped me, but at least he tried; he's my full time body guard and chauffer, and, when I was thirteen and feeling depressed after spending too long in front of a mirror, he was the one I asked - 'Do you think I'm pretty?'<br /><br />'No, mate,' he said, 'I wouldn't call you pretty at all. No way. You're beautiful.'<br /><br />It's still near the top of one of my all-time favourite lies. - Bill Condon




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